Dear Nursery,—I am making a voyage, on a sailing vessel from San Francisco to the Sandwich Islands. We have been on the water for three weeks.

Every day at noon, if the sun shines, the captain comes up on deck with a queer thing in his hand, which he calls a sextant. With this he looks at the sun, and finds out just where on this great ocean we are, and just how far we have gone in the last twenty-four hours. To-day he says we are three hundred miles from Honolulu.

There are twenty sails on this ship. I love to lie down on deck, and look at them; and I think it is a beautiful sight to see them all spread and filled with wind. It almost seems as if their tops touched the sky. All the masts and sails and ropes have names. I am sure it would take me a good while to learn them; but all the sailors know them.

When the captain wants a sail changed, he gives the order in a very loud tone; then the first mate, who is never very far from the captain, repeats the order; and then the sailors run quickly to the ropes and pull away, and sing while they pull; and the sail goes up or down, just as the captain wants it.

Every hour a sailor takes his turn at steering the ship: so there is always one man at the wheel. There is a large bell swung just in front of him, which he strikes every half-hour to mark the time. When it is twelve o'clock, he strikes the bell eight times; and it is eight bells again at four o'clock and at eight o'clock. The first hour after eight bells is two bells; the second, four bells; the third, six bells; and the half-hours strike the odd numbers,—three, five, and seven bells. It is a very funny way to tell time, I think.

One day the captain slung a hammock on deck, and we had a nice time swinging in it. Another day, when the sea was very calm, he hung a rope from the rigging, and made a real swing for us. We have long fish-lines which we throw over the ship's side. Once a gentleman on board caught a beautiful dolphin, all green and blue and gold. The steward made a nice chowder out of the dolphin for our lunch, and we had baked dolphin for dinner that day.

Thanksgiving Eve a little lamb was born on board. The sailors named it "Thanksgiving," for the day. It is a dear little lamb now,—so white and gentle! We have tied a blue ribbon around its neck, and it will run all over the deck after us, and go to sleep in our laps. There is a cunning little pig, too, which I call "Dennis," after the pig that I read about in "The Nursery." I wish it were really the same wonderful little pig; but mamma says she does not think it can be.

I must tell you about the beautiful bouquet the steward made for our Thanksgiving dinner. It was made out of vegetables with a knife—yellow roses from carrots, and white roses, japonicas, and tuberoses from turnips and potatoes. Some of the petals he dipped into beet-water, and so made blush roses of them. Then he made two canary-birds of carrots, and perched them among the flowers. Mamma said that she had seen many a cluster of wax flowers that were not as beautiful.

Perhaps I will write again when we arrive at Honolulu.